The Doctor and the Professor
by HelenaHermione
Summary: In between Series 3 and 4, the Doctor is on his own once again until, by chance, he appears in upstate New York in 1939 and comes across the key to finding the lost Hand of Omega…with help from an unlikely ally. Xover
1. Prologue

**Summary:** This will be a crossover of a movie and a TV show from opposite sides of the Atlantic, a unique yet appropriate crossover for an epic adventure...with this prologue, I may be getting a little detailed to set up the two different worlds of the two main characters, and since I'm putting this into two very different fanfiction archives, but things will start moving along once everything is hopefully clear enough. (Note: Yes, the crossover is a bit of a surprise: read and see what you think!)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own either of these characters-as great as they are, these two are the property of their respective corporations.

* * *

**Prologue**

Matter and space may be created by random fluctuations of energy, but so is time as well when the first three dimensions merge together and then stretch apart into two distinct temporal dimensions…there may be a few others, but from these main dimensions, an infinity of universes are created. Some universes linger close to each other with thin boundaries, but chaos reigns in such situations, and so the shifts of their phases usually tend to naturally pull them away from each other as voids form in between; still, as different as these universes are to each other, they share a common bond in time. For time itself…it is not a strict progression from cause to effect, as from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it is nothing more than a big ball of ever-changing possibilities and chances forming entwining patterns and chaos with infinite branches; since nothing is ever fixed in time, this creates idiosyncrasies.

* * *

The leaves on the trees are changing color once more, following the routine of nature in the shifts of time, when all things must fade away through the touch of the cold and the darkness to come; the wind blows roughly and rips a few off the branches, which will soon be bare. A black Ford car cruises down the tree-lined avenue, an antithesis to the brash hues now draping down overhead, but as it halts at the curb with the passenger door opening, a few more leaves are falling; the bespectacled man dressed in an old gray suit stepping out pauses as he stares at the sight. His brown hair has a touch of gray near the temples while his skin, still displaying those old scars, now wrinkles just a little bit more beyond his weary smirks; he cannot move as quickly and as certainly as he had before, not when there has been too much pain. 

However, he shakes his head and leans back down as he tells the driver, "Thanks for bringing me here and just remember what I told you-you did write it down, right?"

"Of course I did," the white-haired, balding driver replies. "I'm not as daft as all of that. Now go on, you're going to be late to your own class!"

The professor smiles and slams the car door shut as the driver waves and then steers the black Ford away from the curb and out onto the avenue once more, heading past the red-brick buildings scattered about verdant lawns. It was the start of another school year and the students were rushing past him as the bell in the clock tower rang out several times; the professor hefted the weight of his briefcase, staring down at it in bemusement as his fingers rubbed against the handle before he sighed.

"Well, I'm just going to have to get used to it…the rest of my life."

* * *

Millenia ago, on a world in the center of this universe, there was a primitive society which lived in chaos, but then three great leaders rose to prominence as one of them had an idea that since one could travel through spatial dimensions, one should also be able to travel through temporal dimensions. Assisted by the others, they fashioned a ship from living materials, and also expanded the space within its interior without affecting its exterior, before experimenting; after awhile, they successfully achieved their goal and the ship could vanish in one space and at one point in time and then reappear in another space and at another point in time. However, even the smallest of their tests used up enormous amounts of energy and so another member of the trio realized that they would have to create a new power source in order to time travel without restraint…for this, he looked to the stars. 

He created a stellar manipulation device and stored it into a special casket before he soared away from his planet, flying closer and closer into a star as he then reached over to grab the casket, unsealing it to remove the device which would allow him to draw upon the power of the star. However, even with such a tool, he was unable to maintain the restraints he had placed upon the star's field of energy and now it began to vacillate; quickly, he stored away the device into its casket and sealed it tightly before his fingers flew to the controls, initiating a retreat. Yet it was too late…for his siphoning and intrusion had weakened the star's structure so that its energy pushed out against its limits, causing the first stellar explosion of its kind, a supernova that seemed to consume the ship of this leader, who had been known as Omega.

Afterwards, his colleagues traveled to the coordinate of the former star that had now collapsed into a black hole, but their ship was strong enough to resist its pull as they harnessed its nucleus, bringing it back to their world in a perfectly balanced stasis. They stored it beneath their Citadel and called it the Eye of Harmony, the source from which they would draw upon the power of time travel so that their society on the planet of Gallifrey would advance and gain such mastery that they would be known as the custodians of time…Time Lords. Yet even as Omega's colleague, the great Rassilon who would be known as their founder, used his Sash to safely control the Eye in coordination with his Great Key to draw out the first strands of energy for their time-traveling ships, he also withdrew a heavier prize…the sealed casket, which had endured the force of a supernova and subsequent black hole, and contained the device that would be known as the Hand of Omega.

* * *

Though Barnett College is certainly not the most prestigious college, compared to the Ivy-League universities, it has its own reputation and has gained a certain amount of prestige in recent years with a well-respected staff of professors well-versed in their fields. The professor, at the moment considering this statement that is both implied and stated within its pamphlet, cannot help feeling a little ambivalent about such a message as he looks over his first class of the year…the lecture room is packed, mostly occupied by the sort of students who sit up straight and smile, trying to catch his eye. As he presents the syllabus on the course, emphasizing the key message that this discipline is only focused on the search for fact and requires more hours of research than pursuit, he ignores his interior strife at feeling like some sort of hypocrite just as much as ignores those hopeful faces and fluttering eyes. 

At last, class ends and the students, albeit with some reluctance from a few, rush out as the professor realizes, after a quiet moment, that he won't have another class for a few more hours. After shuffling a few papers, he sighs and brushes his fingers through his hair before he gives up and leaves the room, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he walks down the corridors and out of the building. The sun has risen higher in the sky, shining through the clouds as his footsteps crush the fallen leaves while he crosses the lawn and heads over to a bench beneath the curving branches of an old oak, a good spot where he sits down and removes a flask from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, taking a big gulp.

* * *

At first, the Time Lords found themselves at odds with other civilizations across the universe, but eventually they saw the disastrous consequences of their actions in interfering with the flow of the history and so they adopted a policy of non-intervention, except with instances of great injustice and threats to existence. Amongst their members, they developed an aloof, arrogant nature that separated them from their bold past with hierarchy and ceremony as their guide, but one tradition still tested the very limits of their character at the young age of 8. For before the children of Gallifrey could be admitted to the Academy and trained as Time Lords, they were initiated by being brought before a portal known as the Untempered Schism, a point where reality had been ripped and they could see into the Time Vortex, the transdimensional spiral connecting all points in time and space. 

In viewing this phenomenon, some of these young children were inspired and became the best of the Time Lords…yet the rest either went mad or ran away, becoming the renegades; one boy who ran away, ran so far away that he lost his name, called himself the Doctor. For most of his long life, he had avoided his people as he so often violated their neutral policy by becoming involved in the events of Earth and of so many other worlds with his curious mind always eager to explore, never able to settle with all of his adventures as he met friends and enemies along the way. However, in the end, he returned home when duty called, when an enemy of such malice threatened all of reality and every species in the universe…in the true war to end all wars, the Time War, the planet of Gallifrey and the fleet of their enemy burned with almost all of the Time Lords destroyed…yet the Doctor survived.

"Come on, allons-y, let's move out of here!" the Doctor cried as he rushed into his ship, slamming the door shut behind him.

Inside, the walls of the main room curve downward, covered in roundels and supported by branching columns like strands of coral while illuminated with a bright, warm glow; the floor is grated over a sub-floor and circles round the center of the room, the console with pedestals curving over its round surface. Wiring hangs down from the ceiling, draping over the six curving counters composed of a soft, luminescent substance and protruding from this are odds and ends like a bicycle pump, an orb, a wheel, dials, levers, switches and the monitor. At the nerve of this console is the transparent central column stretching up to the ceiling, the time rotor aglow in teal with cylinders that would oscillate during the course of a trip…this is the TARDIS, the ship that can travel through 'Time And Relative Dimensions In Space', the home of the Doctor.

The Doctor glanced around and frowned. "Oh, that's right…I'm on my own. Been awhile since that's happened. Well, still got to go…and I'm talking to myself. Hmm, at least _I_ listen to me."

* * *

The professor stares across the lawn, the flask resting in his lap, when a voice cries, "Professor! Professor Jones!" 

Professor Henry Jones Jr., or Indiana Jones as he prefers to be called, turns around and sees the librarian rushing over to him. "Ms. Kitredge? What's wrong?"

Ms. Kitredge reaches the bench and inhales as she clutches a newspaper. "I just had to tell someone, I've just read…Great Britain has declared war on Germany and it's expected that France will do likewise very soon. I mean, it's natural with the way that the Nazis have invaded Poland, but…I fear it's going to be another world war."

Indiana Jones stared up at her and carefully removed the newspaper from her grasp, shaking it to loosen the creases, as he reads the headline. "My god…so it finally happened."


	2. From Inconvenience

**Summary:** Ah...yes, well, I'm sorry about my absence on for the last couple of months, but I hope to get back on track with some of these stories, especially this crossover of Doctor Who and Indiana Jones; I've received some recent encouragement and it sort of has pushed me into continuing. In any case, for all of those who reviewed, added me to author alert, or added this to your story alert, I hope you all had lovely holidays and are off to starting a great new year; hopefully, 2008 will be my year of writing!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Doctor Who or Indiana Jones...though I try to be accommodating to their characterizations...

* * *

**Chapter 1: From Inconvenience**

The TARDIS…suspended in one facade, that of a blue police box common to the streets of London in the 1950s; outside on the door, there was a panel with a telephone inside, which would have connected you to the police switchboard and officers would have used the box itself to secure prisoners inside as they waited for a car to be sent round. Of course, the TARDIS wasn't supposed to be stuck in that form, but the Chameleon Circuit, which would have allowed this Time Lord vehicle to disguise itself in any fashion that suited its environment, had broken long ago and couldn't be fixed…not after everything that had happened. Still, it was a nice shape, very sturdy and accessible while being easy to find with such a blatant blue color…however, on most occasions, even in the farthest reaches of the universe or in the flow of time, sometimes it was barely noticed by others, especially humans, all wrapped up in their own affairs without looking around at their surroundings.

Sometimes, though, things go wrong if you don't pay attention…inside the TARDIS, the Doctor held his hands up and muttered, "You know, you could have told me you would do that."

He was staring sternly at Kulu-thik, a Chelonian (cybernetic humanoid tortoise) now pointing a ray gun at him; the Chelonian smirked, his molar teeth glinting. "If I had told you, Doctor, you would not have let me aboard your ship."

"Yes, well, here I was thinking that you would be…peaceful, but obviously I was mistaken."

"Of course you were, Doctor, you have always been mistaken, especially when it came to Chelonia. Why did you interfere?"

The Doctor grimaced. "I had to interfere, your people were becoming too powerful and…your society needed a new direction. The pacifists made Chelonia into a better world."

Kulu-thik stomped forward, hunched slightly within his shell armor as his claws scratched against the ray gun, and bellowed, "But flower arrangements!"

The Doctor smiled a little. "What? What's wrong with flower arrangements? It was a way for Chelonians to make a peaceful transition into a productive society that the other worlds might be able to forgive for its terrible past of war. Flower arrangements are something beautiful that everyone can appreciate, that was much better for your people than always making war and-"

"You interfered! The pacifists should have failed, we would have taken over the universe, but you interfered and betrayed us! The flower arrangements that we created may have been beautiful, but the other worlds took them from us as reparations, we were unable to recover and our society collapsed! The pacifists did nothing for us…we must go back in time and correct the mistakes, stop your interference and annihilate the pacifist faction before they grow too strong, we must undo the damage that has been done so that the Chelonians will conquer the universe!"

"Ah," the Doctor remarked and strode over to the console, his hands slowly dropping to rest on the controls. "Is that all you want? Well, why didn't you say so? Now let me see, Chelonia at the time of the Insularity Collapse, that would be about… before the year 2781 on the Jara Star calendar and just off the Nebulus Belt, galactic coordinate 3.4.9.2…"

The Doctor continued mumbling as he twisted an orb that glowed and flicked a few switches, then rushed over to the other side while the Chelonian flinched, but didn't fire his ray gun, still positioned by the door…at last, the Time Lord pulled a lever and his TARDIS dematerialized into the Time Vortex. Kulu-thik stumbled slightly at the jostling of the vehicle hurtling through time and space, his shell keeping him off-balanced, and so the Doctor took the opportunity to turn a dial into the mauve range before tightly gripping the console…his ship abruptly jerked to a halt, tilting as the doors swung open and the Chelonian fell back, his ray gun misfiring when his shell got wedged in the doorway. The Doctor ducked as sparks ignited on the main console, wincing in wait for another shot, but the pull of space, though it did not affect the atmosphere inside the TARDIS, still had gotten a hold on part of Kulu-thik's body and soon he plopped through the opening, floating away while the doors closed after his departure.

The Doctor straightened up and sighed as he examined the damage on his console. "Oh…why did he have to do that…"

* * *

"A Phoney War…" Professor Jones shook his head and folded up the newspaper. "Poland has already fallen and they're calling it a Phoney War!" 

In the break room of Barnett College, the percolator brews on the stove while Dr. Marcus Brody stands at the window, staring out at the lawn being covered by gentle snowfall on this early afternoon in December of 1939, and shakes his head. Indiana Jones, meanwhile, reached down for his briefcase in a huff, swinging it onto the tabletop beside the paper before unclasping and opening the case to remove his brown-bag lunch, its exterior a little soggy as some of the graded essays beneath had gotten stained. It was the final week of term before holiday and the students, as usual, were trying to catch up with everything they should have been learning before the final test, but if these last essays were any indication, some would never get into archeology…he had not even wanted to get up this morning to teach his classes.

Brody turns away from the window and crosses over to the stove as the perking sound starts to wind down. "Ah, Indy, they're just trying to reassure themselves that what is happening in Europe won't be bad, though we know this is only the beginning."

Jones grunted and removed his glasses, leaning forward as he rubbed his forehead. "It's just so…frustrating, all of the signs have been there and yet hardly anything had been done to prevent this, just…_appeasement_. The Nazis have always been fanatics and nothing would have changed their goals of domination, of making everything fit their ideals…they're probably spending the winter building up their forces for more invasions to come."

Marcus turned off the stove and then reached up to the cabinet to pick out two mugs. "At least we're not dealing with Hannibal."

"Marcus…just pour the coffee."

Brody emptied out the percolator into each of the mugs, handed one black to Jones and then tipped some creamer into his own. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that…you're keeping yourself sober?"

Indiana slowly nodded as he took the mug and sipped. "I'm trying, but it's rough…still, dad would have wanted me to get serious and I am getting older."

"Yet you're still yourself, Indy, no matter how much you try to settle…I think Henry would rather have you content then miserable."

Indiana Jones shrugged and slipped his glasses back on his nose, sniffing while he took another gulp of black coffee and then practically tore apart the brown bag to get at his lunch; Marcus Brody walked over to the couch and sat down with a sigh, swallowing his lighter brew. It had been several months since Professor Henry Jones Senior had passed away…Indiana had managed to return in time to be at his bedside at the end; after awhile, he finished eating and wadded up the brown bag, throwing it toward the trash can before he closed his briefcase and stood, clearing his throat while Marcus finished his coffee.

"Well, I'll go show you the library then," Jones remarked as he walked toward the door. "It's not as specialized as the one at Marshall College, but it has plenty of resources and Ms. Kitredge the librarian is ready to help."

Brody smiled. "I'm sure she is if you're around…still, I wish you would have stayed at Marshall College, it's quite a trip up to New York."

"A trip? Marcus, you need to travel more often, Connecticut to New York hardly amounts to a _trip_."

"No, thank you, I…I already have done enough traveling in my time. You must believe me when I say I could not manage more than the…_trip _from Connecticut to New York."

* * *

The Doctor, having unlatched the hatch of the grated floor to reach the sublevel power source, groaned as he wiggled out of the crawl space, covered in grease with his sonic screwdriver, the tool with a thousand applications, clenched in his teeth. He spit it out into his hand and gagged slightly, then closed the hatch with a loud thud to glare at his console, still smoking; the TARDIS would have to make a landing for repairs, though that would mean fine-tuning some of the circuits…hopefully he would wind up on a technologically advanced planet. The Doctor marched over to the main console, twisting a wheel and then dashing toward the bicycle pump, furiously squeezing as much energy into his ship as possible, hoping that there would be enough power for the time rotor to function properly…he pulled the lever. 

There was a whirring, grinding noise of time and space disrupted in the materialization of the TARDIS; the Time Lord pushed open the door and hit a mop as he glanced around, realizing that he was in a janitor's closet…well, at least it was still possible he might find something compatible to the circuits here. The Doctor made a quick exit into a quiet corridor, wood-paneled with trophy cases in between the framed pictures and plaques hanging along the walls…it was distinctly Earth and academic as well, though not what he had in mind when it came to his repairs. Still, he had a certain respect for such hallowed halls where young minds were expanded to see beyond their own circumstances through experiments and lectures and…books; he strolled off down the hallway, examining the framed portraits and black-and-white pictures before the plaques gave him the information he needed.

Barnett College…probably a small establishment somewhere in America, around 1939 judging by the newest plaques and when the Doctor caught a glimpse of snowfall outside a window…the winter of 1939 and of discontent, not even the rumbling furnace here could warm the chill he received just thinking of the atrocities taking place in Europe. Another thing to check…he reached the double doors marked as the library and pushed one of them open, treading past the threshold; it was peaceful within, hardly anyone stirring except for the librarian at her desk with shelves of books and reading tables arranged in front of her watchful eyes.

The Doctor walked over to the front desk. "Um…pardon me, ma'am, but where do you have the newspapers here? I just want to look something up."

The librarian, who had been stamping a few books, raised her head and frowned. "You're certainly not a student here, sir."

The Doctor lowered his head, glancing at the nameplate on her desk. "Well, Ms. Kitredge, that is true. My name is Smith, John Smith, I'm visiting from Britain and I just want to know what's going on back home…I only want to look."

Ms. Kitredge hesitated, staring at him, and then nodded before she bent down behind her desk, pulling out a drawer and removing a newspaper that she held out to him. "This is today's paper, Mr. Smith, but there still isn't very much happening since Poland fell. I'm sure everything is fine back at your home…do you have family?"

The Doctor, accepting the paper, scratched the back of his neck. "Unfortunately, not anymore, but I have plenty of friends…I don't want to impose, but could I still browse the college library? I may need to read up a little on technology or so…"

"Check the 600s, Mr. Smith, and I hope you find what you need."

"Thank you, Ms. Kitredge, you're just lovely."

The Doctor turned and strode away from the front desk, disappearing amidst the bookshelves as Ms. Kitredge inhaled; she nearly jumped when the library doors opened again, but relaxed at the familiar figure that entered. "…Stirling is on the right track, Marcus, I've read about his progress in Tres Zapotes and from the evidence, the Olmec might…oh, yes. Good afternoon, Ms. Kitredge, this is an old friend of mine, Marcus Brody."

The librarian and Brody started chatting as Professor Jones walked down the aisle to the 900s, to gather the books that Marcus had wanted; he passed by the 600s, not noticing the lanky fellow in between the shelves who had paused with a frown while he had been rifling through the books.


	3. To Reconvening

Okay...this is a bit awkward, but yes, I'm still around-hello! I know it's been months and I do feel guilty, but thanks for the interest still-to everyone that reviewed, put me on Author-Alert, put this on Story-Alert, and so briefly appeared in my mailbox. Well, first of all, how I was able to return-Spring Semester of college is over, has been for a little while, and some of my other work has slowed down a bit. I made progress with my own personal novel, maybe finish that up by fall-start thinking about its future-and so I had some free time. And...here we are!

Secondly, I do have 'plot bunnies' about this, but not as many as I like-in fact, while I was working on this chapter, I had one or two ideas for later that I never had back in...January. (Some of which may be inspired by Series 4 of 'Doctor Who' itself and the new Indiana Jones movie-though I may change the story description at least for 'The Doctor and the Professor'.) This is not a fully thought-out story, but I am relatively certain of its direction, I just have to get it there without leaving behind too many plot-holes and dissatisfaction for both sides. One thing I can say is that-we're going to be jumping around. Time, space, and everything in between-that is my intention and I shall try to fulfill your expectations, (as little as they may be right about now) but that may take awhile. However, I will..._try _to update sooner with the next one.

* * *

**Chapter 2: To Reconvening**

"Hello, I'm Doctor Marcus Brody."

"I know, he just…mentioned that."

"Oh, he did? Sorry, I must not have-ah, and you're Ms. Kitredge, I see. So nice to meet you. I'm just visiting, by the way, but this is a splendid little college. You must enjoy working here."

Ms. Kitredge cleared her throat, adjusting her nameplate. "It's well enough, really, not so renowned yet a comfortable establishment. The pay is good and I am better off than some…what about you, Dr. Brody? Do you work?"

Marcus sighed, a fond look in his eyes. "Yes, indeed, I do work-I'm the head curator at the National Museum. If you have never seen it, you really ought to, the artifacts on display are really some of the greatest treasures known to man…arrowheads, armor, doubloons, weapons, pottery, jewelry-anything you can imagine. No matter how big or how small, we collect it all if it has worth as a part of history."

The librarian nodded. "Sounds like you certainly enjoy your work."

"Naturally, what else could be better? Though if I were a young man again, I suppose I would actually go out there, on the archaeological digs, and help recover all that has been lost. Still, I'm sure you know how important cataloguing is, make no mistake about that, and at the museum-"

"Hello!" A voice suddenly called, far louder than a whisper.

The pair turned about as Ms. Kitredge frowned and hissed, "Excuse me, sir, but we were just talking and there is no need for you to shout like that. Do you need anything?"

The British fellow, who had been walking over to them with a smile, now winced and lowered his voice. "Sorry about that-been awhile since I've been in a library, I forgot about the silence part. Um, Ms. Kitredge, it's just that I was wondering…do you happen to have any book called Harry Potter?"

"Harry Potter?" The librarian shook her head. "Odd title…I wouldn't know off the top of my head, what sort-"

"May not even be called that," The fellow scratched the back of his head, glancing askance toward the shelves. "I could just be thinking of the author. Could you-could you just take a look at the card catalogue for me, please? I don't think I would be able to handle searching for it on my own, might wind up…pulling out the whole drawer and spilling all of the cards, that would be a right mess to sort out."

Ms. Kitredge sighed. "All right, I'll go take a look, it'll only be a minute-please excuse me, Dr. Brody, duty calls."

Marcus slowly nodded as the librarian stepped out from behind her desk and murmured, "Of course, madam, I don't mind-see you soon!"

* * *

Professor Jones browsed through the few books that Barnett College had on pre-Columbian Mesoamerica, checking to make sure that they were accurate enough for Marcus to borrow-the National Museum had received a new grant and was considering investing it in the archeological sites of that region. He grimaced over the information in one particular book-whoever wrote this was an absolute fraud, sticking to the more outdated mode of thought on his subject, the sort of ideas touted about in the 19th century…he checked the author's name and groaned, recognizing it well. He'd seen this fellow around at meetings of the Archaeological Institute of America, a man who was actually considered an expert and even taught at Harvard…Indiana shook his head before returning this book back to the shelf. He did not need to get involved in some dispute over trifling details, even if they might lead someone else to think-maybe it wasn't right, but someone else might notice that and actually confront…he grabbed the book again and shoved it under his armpit; he would save it for himself.

Indiana Jones had done a lot in his life, all for the cause of archeology-well, except in a few instances when the price was right and he was too desperate to refuse, but otherwise he remembered the integrity that should be inherent with his discipline and tried to follow it. Sometimes that proved difficult, especially when ethics was not a subject to debate with the worshippers of Kali and especially the Nazis, but in such instances he had acted as best as he could to recover the artifacts and deliver them to the proper authorities or at least leave them undisturbed. Though he usually did not gain recognition from his professional community, at least others had been satisfied by his work and even saved as a result of it, with the exception of the few that had gotten in his way…and those that had been harmed or disturbed even when they had only wanted to help.

Professor Jones had heard a shout, coming from the front of the library, but he ignored it and continued with his perusal; then after awhile, there was the sound of footsteps coming towards the back here and, now less occupied, he peeked out from the 900s section. "Ms. Kitredge, what's going on?"

The librarian, glancing over at him, paused and sighed. "Hello, Professor. It's just this fellow, British, he came in here before you and Dr. Brody-he's certainly not a student, but I allowed him to look around here. I probably shouldn't have, but…well, now he wants me to look up 'Harry Potter', either by a title or an author. So now I'm heading for the library catalogue-do you want to take a look at anything as well?"

Indiana frowned…earlier today, when he had gone to the train station to pick up Marcus, for a moment he had thought they were being watched; the train had come in on time, arriving at the station with grey clouds gathering overhead to promise snow. He was wearing a good jacket, snug enough for a climb up the mountains of Nepal, but he still shivered as he stood off to the side with the others waiting to welcome the passengers; these people staggered out of the train, loaded down by so much baggage and covered in thick layers, before waddling over to this hospitable crowd. Professor Jones had raised his head, looking around for Dr. Brody with some anxiety about whether or not the old curator had got on the right train, when he spotted a pair of heavyset fellows lingering at the back of the new arrivals, moving slowly and deliberately enough like hunters. However, while thinking that he might try following them instead, he was distracted by the appearance of Marcus-so he waved his hand until the other noticed him as well and then, talking about old times, they had left the station without checking up on those brutes or making sure that they weren't shadowed.

The old Indiana Jones would never have done a thing like that…the professor told Ms. Kitredge, "Don't bother looking. All I want to see is what sort of fellow is alone with my friend right now."

* * *

As Ms. Kitredge walked off toward the row of card catalogs at the back of the library, the Doctor watched her go and shook his head. "I'm going to regret that, but so-hello, Dr. Brody!"

The Time Lord turned around, grinning at the man now politely nodding. "Hello to you as well, though I suppose you have the advantage of me."

"Ah, right, well…" the Doctor hesitated, staring at the old man. "I probably should have thought this through before I came over, might be a bit of a shock…listen, are you healthy? Heart ticking well enough and all?"

Marcus frowned. "What are you-yes, I'm perfectly well, I don't smoke or drink as much as I used to and I take good long walks. I'm just as healthy as any man half my age, so what does that have to do with anything?"

"Good, that's good, brilliant in fact," the Time Lord sighed with some relief. "I just don't want you to-to drop dead right in front of me! Anyway, the thing is that…I do know you, Dr. Marcus Brody. We met once, awhile ago, and I want to talk to you about that-"

"Oh! Really?" Dr. Brody lifted his head, a confused look in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I don't…I know I should, you have a distinct appearance, but I don't remember…"

"No, not like this," The Doctor waved his hand. "I didn't look like this before, that's the thing, though you may recall…John Smith?"

"Uh…that is a very common name…"

"All right, then how about…the Doctor?"

Marcus was frozen for a moment, then he muttered, "No…it can't be, you can't-you can't be him, it just…it's impossible."

The Doctor grimaced. "No, it's not, it's really me-the Time Lord…"

However, the man didn't want to hear it-Brody turned and quickly strode out of there, not exactly running when he wasn't really strong enough for that, but going off at a fast pace to escape; the Doctor watched him go, slightly bewildered as he wondered what he should do. He didn't have much experience with handling encounters between himself and former companions, considering how much he traveled and the numerous people that had gone with him; though usually, whenever he met them again, they weren't exactly dismayed-after some initial shock-they were _happy _to see him again. However, this sort of alarm…Dr. Marcus Brody was older than most of his former companions had been and it was sort of apparent that the man might already be in the first stages of dementia; in any other instance, the Doctor would have left him alone then so as not to disturb him any further, but this was different-he needed to talk to him.

"I should have sought him out sooner…" the Time Lord shook his head and walked after the old man; he would follow and try to talk to him, not run him down in pursuit like he might have done with others.

* * *

"Damn it-something is wrong here," Indiana Jones grumbled, looking around without any sign of Marcus or a 'British' fellow here in the library.

Ms. Kitredge grimaced. "Don't swear like that and what could be wrong? I don't know why they would leave, but-"

"Marcus wouldn't leave, not when he was only waiting for me to get him these books, unless someone…"

Professor Jones groaned and left his stack of books on the library desk, though the lousy one still remained wedged in his armpit, before he took off without another word to the librarian-yet running down the collegiate halls, passing by the startled faces of students and faculty, he almost felt like he was falling back into his old ways. The sort of habits that were hard to shake no matter how hard you tried, even if you had given them up for the sake of age and to honor thy father…he slowed down, however, when he got near the main doors; a man was just picking himself up from the floor, shaking his head in a daze like he had just been knocked down. The fellow was tall, just as tall as him, but also too thin, though the layer of clothes with trench-coat and a suit in a blatant shade of blue did add some mass to his form; yet overall, especially with his messy brown hair, he didn't look too intimidating.

The stranger turned towards the main doors, staring at them for a moment, then spun around as Indiana approached to exclaim, "They took him! They-they just took him!"

He caught the British accent-he surged forward and slammed the stranger against the wall, holding him with one arm. "Who are you? Did you have anything to do with this?"

The stranger gasped at the impact, but then his expression changed from shock to annoyance "I'm the Doctor and of course I didn't have anything to do with this! Why would I-look, we don't have time for this, they're getting away!"

Indiana Jones clutched at the Doctor's suit jacket, not even thinking about the odd name as he dragged the fellow toward the doors, pushing them open in time to see a LaSalle driving out of the parking lot into the softly falling snow-though increasing in density. He noticed their direction and then ran down to his car, a Plymouth roadster parked near the front, with Doctor in tow-he opened the passenger door, pushed the fellow inside, and then slammed it shut before going around to the driver's side, taking out his key and cranking the engine; it would take a minute in this damn weather.

"What? What are you-what's the matter with you!" the Doctor waved his hands in exasperation. "You've practically kidnapped me and now what are we going to do-chase after them? It's impossible in this weather, the roads-"

The engine roared to life as the former professor shouted, "That's exactly what we're going to do, Doctor! Whoever they are, I'm not going to let them take my friend-and I'm only bringing you along because you've got some explaining to do when this is over!"

The wheels screeched as the Plymouth roadster reversed and then turned before it accelerated out of the parking lot and down the drive of Barnett College.

* * *

So here we are-sorry about the little cliff-hanger to the car chase, but we'll get back to that! I may try to figure out some of the schematics...I'm not familiar with snow and ice, but I at least know it will make for a bit of a slippery ride. Again, please review and alert me, it will have an effect!


	4. Crossing Paths

****Uh...surprise! I know it's been a very, very, very long time since I've done anything with this story, but I got active in the last couple of weeks and decided to dust this up a bit, and continue. I have some idea of where I'm going with this, I really do, although it may change along the way. Anyway, this chapter-I actually had most of this chapter, or half of it at any rate, on my computer for a very long while (probably since 2008/2009), I just never did anything with it.

It's strange-I started this before I saw the 4th Indiana Jones movie, and before I saw the 4th series of Doctor Who. I was relatively on target with some developments, although I changed some things-apparently, Henry Jones Senior died in 1951, according to the movie cannon, but I thought it would be more poignant if he was already gone. Oh well. And perhaps some people might expect River Song to be in here, because she is a Professor, although I have a funny feeling that if I do modernize this story somewhat...

* * *

**Chapter 3: Crossing Paths**

In the small town of Barnett, established around the same time as its College, the shop windows along Main Street were lit up with strands of Christmas lights glowing bright in the midst of this harsh season. Children pressed their noses against the glass, looking in at the toys on display in amazement, hoping that they might receive these toys in just a couple of weeks.

Down the sidewalk, a lady dressed primly in the uniform of the Salvation Army rang her bell and the people passing by her were obliged to toss in some coins if they had any to spare. The Great Depression had hardly faded, but lingered still, especially with the recession that had occurred about two years ago.

Inside the diner down the street, however, it was warm and cozy as the customers ate their lunch and drank coffee at the counter or in the booths by the windows, forgetting for awhile their worries and cares with a hot meal and a nice cup. The women chatted together, gossiping and sharing news of friends and family, while the men read their newspapers alone, quiet as they only shook their heads in resignation and dismay, rustling the pages in their perusal of world and national affairs gone awry.

However, in the distance, a car honked its horn loudly and repeatedly, in rapid-fire succession. Several children turned their heads, covered by caps, ear muffs, or just wrapped round with colorful scarves, and watched with interest as a LaSalle swerved round another car that had just been driving along at a slower pace, nearly colliding with oncoming traffic. They could just barely see two large men in the front seat, one in the back, the front seat fellows seemed to be arguing.

Just behind the LaSalle, they could just see another automobile-a Plymouth roadster-moving at a faster speed, and catching up with the LaSalle. The two cars seemed to have come from the direction of the college. Main Street had already been treated by the snowplow earlier today, and it was salted as well, and so was relatively clear of any snow that could hinder traffic.

A few cars had been driving along the two-lane thoroughfare before the chase arrived, normal traffic for midday in December, with stops every now and again at any sign of red. But suddenly from both directions, they were forced to veer off to the side of the road as the two mavericks now rushed down the middle of the road, heading towards the woods.

The Salvation Army lady dropped her bell and jumped out of the way as one discombobulated, innocent driver desperately tried to brake to get out of the way of the madcap chase. His sedan only stopped once it had hit, and jumped over the curb, knocking over the red kettle and spilling out the donations. Nearby, the kids cheered and waved at the spectacle of this chase before they rushed over to grab at the pennies, nickels, dimes, and even a few quarters that had fallen out, until the Salvation Army lady returned to kick them away, ringing her bell furiously.

From inside the diner, the ladies had stopped talking and the fellows had raised their heads from their newspapers at the sounds of horn and bell. All looked out the windows in time to see the two cars pass by as a bit of a blur. They were silent for a little while afterwards, everyone staring at each other and out the window, as they wondered what was happening.

* * *

If any of them had been within the LaSalle, however, they probably wouldn't be able to understand what was going on. Dr. Marcus Brody sat in the backseat, his head turning frantically to look out either of the side windows, glimpsing the shocked faces of the townspeople and the cars veering off the road.

"Sorry! Sorry!" He cried, hoping they could hear him somehow, and forgive him for what was not necessarily his fault. He had just gotten wrapped in this mess, and he still didn't—

"Shut up!" The front passenger said, turning around to point a gun in Marcus's face. "Where are they?" He asked.

"Where is what?" Marcus replied, staring at the gun.

"The devices! The two devices that you and your friends stole from us in 1918!" The man shouted.

"Listen, I don't know what devices you are talking about." Marcus said, shaking his head. "There have been so many devices over the years that I can't keep track of them all!"

"The boxes! The two boxes!" The front passenger said.

The driver asked, "Alexi, we are heading towards the woods, is this the right way? We came here over the river-"

"The river is in the opposite direction!" Alexi cried, looking back at the driver. "The woods is the right way for now. I can't keep track of where we are going. We can lose our pursuit in the woods if you would go faster! I should have drove." He muttered, turning back around to face Marcus.

Marcus had taken the opportunity to glance over his shoulder with the reassuring sight of the Plymouth roadster in hot pursuit. Knowing that Indiana Jones would catch up with them, Marcus turned back to Alexi and his gun. "I haven't the faintest idea what sort of boxes you are talking about." He said, though he had an idea.

"The magic boxes." Alexi said, pointing his gun closer at Marcus. "The ones that you, the professor, and the Doctor stole from us. We had them, the keys to interstellar travel, and time manipulation, and you stole them from us."

"Oh. Those boxes." Marcus said, a little uneasy. "Yes, well, I seem to have forgotten where we put them." He said, grimacing. Oh, Doctor, was that really him before?

"Wrong answer, Marcus." Alexi grimaced.

* * *

_Earlier…_

"Please, just leave me alone!" Dr. Marcus Brody huffed, striding down the college corridor as quickly as he could in a half-sprint. "You can't be the same Doctor, you're just-you're just too young to be him, or at least too modern." Brody said, turning around to face his pursuer. "The Doctor I met, while he was about your age or so, looked quite different. His hair was lighter, curly, not so spiky-longer, like a mane. And he dressed in Victorian clothes—a frock coat, a wainscot, even a cravat. He looked differently overall."

The Doctor, ambling along just behind Marcus with his hands stuffed inside his pockets, groaned. "While it is nice to be taken as being young, I'm really not. I'm much older than I was before, but that's besides the point!" He exclaimed.

"What you see, all of this, is just the result of regeneration." The Doctor explained. "It's just a new body that I got when my old one was about to give up the ghost. Everything in me just switched itself around and renewed itself into this form. Actually, it's done that twice since you last saw me, but that's besides the point, I'm still me!" The Doctor exclaimed.

Dr. Brody, getting closer to the main college doors, glanced back. "Well, why don't you-why don't you prove it?" He asked. "When I met you before, we were such good friends, you and I and Henry, that we had done-"

The Time Lord tilted his head back and grimaced. "Oh, you're not making this any easier on me, Marcus." He muttered. "All right, all right, uhm, let me think—now how did that motto go-ah, yes," He said, leaning forward and smiling. "'Genius of the restoration, aid our own resuscitation.' Is that what you wanted to hear, Marcus?"

"Oh, I'm just not sure..." Marcus said.

"Oh, come on, Marcus, why don't you have a little more faith? You always had some faith, Marcus." He said. "Even when we were stuck on Tropicanus Major Delta, with the river swelling and the Dingons chasing after us, you always did have some faith that we would get rescued, or find our way back to the TARDIS in time."

Marcus blinked and stared at this stranger standing before him as two fellows walked down the hallway from the opposite direction towards them. "Is it you, Doctor?" Marcus asked, hope in his eyes. "If it's you, Doctor, I think you should know-"

However, at that moment, one of the two men, in a heavy accent, shouted, "Sir, are you not Dr. Marcus Brody? If so, we would like to speak with you!"

Brody appeared puzzled as the Doctor turned around with a grimace, facing the strangers now coming upon them. "Look, I was talking with him first and I will have you know-" He started to say, until one of the fellows punched him.

"Doctor!" Marcus cried, as the two thugs picked up Marcus, and dragged him towards the door.

"Doctor?" One of the thugs said, turning around to look at the fellow lying on the floor.

"It's not him." The other thug—Alexi, now that Marcus remembered him—said. "The Doctor we are searching for would be older, in his 50s at least. He would most likely be dressed in fancy clothes, not in such a raggedy state, with blue suit and tie." Alexi chuckled. "Come on, we've got what we wanted," He said, as he and his friend rushed out with Marcus Brody to the LeSalle.

* * *

"You're going to get someone killed, driving like that!" The Doctor exclaimed, turning to the strange man hunched over the wheel like a maniac as they entered the woods. "And it could be Marcus! We don't want that, do we?" He asked, frowning.

"Quiet, I don't need you lecturing me," The strange man said, but he eased up a little on the gas, but only just, when he remained focused on the task at hand.

"Why didn't you honk or something while we were driving through the town?" The Doctor asked, annoyed. "Like those Russians did. It's only fair warning-"

"Russians?" The strange man asked, turning to the Doctor.

"Yes, Russians, that's what my impression of them was," The Doctor said. "They were speaking Russian."

"What are Russians doing here, and what would they want with Marcus?" The other man asked.

"Funny you should ask me that," The Doctor said, sitting up a little, until the strange man frowned at him. "Okay, not so funny then," The Doctor said, easing back down a bit. "I came here quite by accident, not knowing where I was, and who should I happen to run into but Marcus, my old friend! I haven't seen him in years." The Doctor said, sighing. "We had some fun adventures back in the old days, before the Time War."

"Time War? Don't you mean the Great War or something?" The strange man said, turning the wheel.

"Something like that," The Doctor said, frowning as they started to approach alongside the LeSalle. "What are you doing?" He asked.

"Trust me on this." The strange man said, reaching towards the glove compartment across the Doctor's lap. "I've done this before." He said, opening the glove compartment. "First of all, I don't believe you." The strange man said, lifting out a gun. "Second of all, you're too young to have been friends with Marcus before the Great War-"

"What are you doing?" The Doctor cried.

"Getting a clear shot!" The strange man said, and then hesitated. "Move over, Doctor, it's your turn to drive!" He exclaimed, starting to crawl over the Doctor.

"I never have believed violence was the way to solve anything!" The Doctor exclaimed, reaching over to grab hold of the wheel.

"You're a pacifist, eh? Keep her steady, Doctor!" The strange man cried, about to roll down the passenger window. "And keep your foot on the gas! We're just about on top of them!" He said, as the passenger window shattered.

The Doctor ducked, avoiding a bullet. "I can't believe we are doing this!" He cried.

"Believe it, Doctor!" The strange man cried, shooting at the Russians' car.

* * *

"Alexi, they're here! Right alongside us!" The Russian driver exclaimed, as Alexi and Marcus looked up.

"Son of a-" Alexi started to say, then climbed into the backseat. "Move over, Marcus!" Alexi said, rolling down the passenger window closest to the Plymouth, with his gun pulled out. Marcus cowered down. Alexi shot at the passenger window of the other car, but apparently missed hitting the driver or anyone, as someone shot back at him. Alexi ducked and shot back.

One of the tires of the LeSalle popped. "Alexi!" The driver cried.

"Shut up, I know!" Alexi cried, turning around. "Marcus-" He said, leveling his gun at the older man, but then another tire popped, and Alexi's gun misfired-at the driver.

"Son of a!" Alexi cried, lunging for the wheel as the LeSalle swerved out of control. He heard one of the backseat doors open, and turned around in time to see Marcus falling out of the car and rolling away.

"Marcus!" Alexi cried as the car went off the road, towards a tree.

* * *

I just decided to stop here. Seems fitting to end with a cliffhanger. I will write more soon, it won't be another four years!


End file.
